The Demon of Many Names
by The SPAZtastic Lawlrus
Summary: A new homunculus is born and she is set on wreaking havoc. With her she brings an era of suffering and death. And so the new war begins.
1. The Monster Is Born

...

_Her life was created by an alchemist and she knew, without a doubt, that it would be ended by one as well. What she didn't know, was what would happen in between, but that was all about to unfold._

_...  
_

She was brought into the world gasping for breath. Her hands were curled into claw-like fists, flailing, searching for something to grab onto. Her body ached and stung, and she bled like a stuck pig. Through bleary eyes, she spotted a brightness, something that glinted in the light.

Using the muscles that she could force to work, she dragged herself over to it and was overcome with the urge to put it in her mouth. It was cold and solid; it tasted fantastic. Beyond anything she could describe. The pain started to ease and she pushed herself to her hands and knees, scooping up the delicious stones and pushing them down her throat. They were her salvation, her light in the darkness.

With every mouthful she grew stronger until her body ached no longer, and she felt strong, and alive. She remained on the wooden floor, breathing heavily with exertion.

A sound caught her attention. Quiet sobs. She mimicked the noise and paused before shaking her head. She didn't like it. The sound grated on her nerves.

She stared curiously at the creature that was whimpering. It lifted its head and stared right back, fear and revulsion evident in its gaze. It was a man.

His tear-stained face and continuous cries were really bothering her now. "St-" She whispered and then cleared her throat. "Stop."

His deep brown eyes widened, she had his attention. Tapping a finger to her chin, she inspected him. She felt as though she knew him, but couldn't remember who he was. She frowned. She didn't like not knowing.

She opened her mouth to ask but he spoke before she could. "No, you're not my daughter." He denied in a shaky whisper. He was in denial. "You look like my baby, like my Penny, but you're not her."

She suddenly sprang to her feet and was in front of the cowering man in a flash. She yanked him to his feet and tried to look him in the eyes. He refused to and a white-hot ball of fury grew in her chest, pushing to get out. She bared her teeth and snarled at him. "Look at me."

He did as he was ordered and a flash of pleasure took hold. She liked this, having weak men obey her. Nowhere near as good as eating those red stones, but a start.

"Who is Penny?" She demanded. "Who am I? Why am I here?"

He moaned. "A mistake, I made a mistake. Please, God, take her from me. I cannot bare to see her face any longer. Please Lord, merciful Lord."

The enraged beast inside took the reins and she acted on violent impulse. She flicked her wrist, throwing him across the room. He slammed into the bookshelf. The man had just enough time to look over his shoulder up at the wobbling piece of furniture before it crashed down on top of him. She clearly heard the resounding crack of his back as it fell. It was nearly as loud as his scream.

"Whoops." She murmured, examining her nails. "I suppose I have to do all the work myse-." She sighed dramatically, cutting herself short when she spotted the mirror.

It was an antique, beautifully preserved full-length mirror. The carvings around the edges were in a language she didn't know, but it was magnificent either way. Picking her way carefully through the mess over to it, she found herself getting used to walking, and better at it with every step.

She stared at her reflection. The young woman who stared back was an unfamiliar face. The woman in the mirror stood tall, shoulders back, chin raised. She looked proud, and strong. Her legs were braced apart and she seemed ready to pounce. She blinked and tipped her head to one side and her reflection did the same. A surprisingly lovely smile was returned as she grinned at the mirror. A lock of pitch black hair fell over one eye and she gently brushed it aside before freezing, mid-motion.

She was disgusted with herself. Her violet eyes flashed in the single light above her. She began to rake a hand through her hair when she spotted an interesting mark on her wrist. Fascinated, she studied it. It was a serpent tattoo, in a circle. It was only briefly that she wondered what it meant, and how she got it before her mind turned to other matters, more important matters.

She scanned the room for clues, or something useful. There was a smaller shard of the ruby-red stone she'd eaten earlier, sitting innocently on the table, by the bookshelf, and by the crushed man.

A chill ran down her spine and she blamed it on the lack of heating in the room. There was a cool breeze coming in from the open door and window. It logical to assume the goosebumps she had were from the cold, but she still felt uneasy.

As she munched away on her finding, she casually read the notes scattered about the desk. They were on something called human transmutation. It didn't keep her attention long until her sharp eyes fell upon a word that stood out from the page.

"Homunculus?" She asked herself in a low whisper. She read the definition aloud. "When a human transmutation is failed, a homunculus is created. A perfect artificial human with the body and mind of a human, but no soul."

The ever-present upward curve of her lips deepened. "A homunculus." She repeated. As she brushed the papers from the desk with a graceful sweep of her arm, she rose and turned, staring at the mess. Stepping around the books, she easily lifted the bookshelf off of her creator.

The homunculus licked her lips and sank into a crouch beside the body. She lifted his head to whisper in his ear. "You're right, _father,_ you made a mistake. Now look at what you've released on the world." She bared her teeth and closed her eyes. "Daddy dearest," She purred. "You have single-handedly damned this world to Hell. You know what I'm going to do. Are you proud? Are you proud of me, daddy?"

She straightened and ran her hands over her bare flesh, grinning from ear to ear. She tipped her head back in elation before rolling it back forward. Still smiling demonically, her eyes narrowed and she spoke: "Ready or not, here I come."


	2. Of Charitable Nature

_..._

_ She ruled for a dozen years before someone managed to end her rein. Justly called Mayhem by the citizens, she wreaked havoc on the country. She introduced epidemics, created mass murderers; chaos was finally freed from the iron grip the military had on it. She found her place, she found her power. She had minions, She had enemies. She was on top. But everything that rose had to fall, nothing could stay perfect forever._

_..._

She knew he was trouble from the moment she laid eyes on him. He looked strange, like a piece that didn't fit in anywhere in the puzzle. It wasn't the clothes, or the long, greasy hair that set her senses screaming, odd clothed, dirty men were common to see around, but the expression on his face.

He wasn't overly tall, nor muscular, but he held himself as though he was the king of the world, as though he was her. She frowned. Arrogance in scrawny boys was not only annoying, but usually ended up inconveniencing her. They always tried to play hero. She wasn't even sure why her boys had let him in here.

"Hey there, sugar." He said as he approached her throne.

She lifted an eyebrow, but didn't move. She wasn't going to bother killing him, not with her own hands. He didn't deserve it. Her gaze rose above his head to her right-hand man, Avven.

Avven nodded curtly in response to her glance. His hand leisurely crept into his pocket. A sleek handgun was revealed. He waited for her mark.

"How're you doing this fine day?" The man said in an oily voice. He smirked at her. "Locked up in your dismal castle? You're as pale as a ghost, sweetie. You should get out into the sunshine."

She stared at him. His questions didn't merit a response from her. She waited for him to tell her what he came for. Very few people were allowed direct contact with her. She was their queen, they only came to her with drastic problems. The most common example were rebels bothering her loyal civilians. Recently there had been if there was a revolt in the countryside. The "heroes" had burnt her farmer's crops to the ground, which affected her food supply. Their punishment was dealt swiftly.

She wondered what was so special about him that he passed the careful screening. He didn't strike her as her usual informant. It was probably some sort of trick. He was sent to be a distraction while his friends scaled the walls to ambush her castle. That would explain his high-handedness. He believed he would be saving this country from her. Irritated and bored, yes, but she was not worried. Her men were more than capable of taking care of anything he had to throw at them.

"Not very talkative, are you?" He said, his smile growing. "Are there any thoughts going on in there?"

She bared her teeth and smiled back at him. He definitely was going to die.

"Do you want to know why I'm here, Charity?" He asked sweetly. He carefully inspected his nails before his gaze casually flicked up to meet hers.

Not showing any sign of interest, she sighed. Being a queen took a lot more patience than she had. She just wanted everything to be quick, and to the point. And if it was bloody, even better. But was that so much to ask for?

"Tell me. Then get the hell out." She said curtly.

"Not going to ask why I called you Charity?" He tipped his head to one side.

She really hated the innocent look he was giving her. An eyebrow lifted. "Call me whatever, I don't care. Now state your business."

"You got to ask me first." He was like a child.

She took a deep breath, trying to hold onto her sanity. Or what sanity she had left. "No."

He pouted. "You're no fun."

"Avven?" She motioned to the man. "Escort this man out of my sight. He bores me."

That was his cue. A sharp CRACK snapped through the air and the thin man dropped to the floor. A true smile tugged at her lips. Now this, she enjoyed.

As the men went to clean up Avven's mess and drag the body away, the unexpected happened. When a newly recruited soldier bent to grab ahold of the carcass, its hand shot out and grabbed his ankle. She had never heard a more high pitched scream than the one the young man, Toby, emitted.

Her men fell away as the previously dead body regained its feet. They all watched in shock and horror as the bullethole in his forehead slowly melted away. He'd healed himself. No one seemed to know what to do. Avven raised his gun and pumped several rounds into the man's body, but he didn't fall again.

"Stop." She lifted a hand and a sickening silence echoed loudly though the stone room. Her interest was pricked. "Who are you?"

Now that he had her attention, he looked like he was about to start purring with pleasure. He smiled through a mouthful of blood. "Envy."

"Envy?" Toby mouthed over the dead man's shoulder before shaking his head. She agreed. It was ridiculous.

"And what, pray tell, are you?" Avven demanded. His voice was rough but that was normal. He had known her for a long time, he knew what she was, and not much surprised him anymore.

The man's appearance changed before her very eyes. One moment she was looking at a slimy, smirking man, and after a flash of white light, she was looking at an exact copy of Avven.

"I'm you." He changed again, now mimicking herself. "And now I'm her."

A murmur of confusion swept through her men. She knew that's what the man who called himself Envy wanted. Confusion, anxiety, anything to make them unstable.

She cleared her throat. "Homunculi can have different ... powers." She announced.

They all stared at her expectantly, but she wasn't going to explain further. They knew what homunculi were, that's all they needed to know.

"That they do, Charity."

"Tell me, Envy, why do you call me that?" She asked. She usually went by her earned title, Queen of Mayhem, but no one called her anything but "your grace". When she went undercover, which was rare, she would called herself Penny, just for the laugh.

"I call you Charity because it's your name." He replied.

"Good answer." She said sarcastically. She didn't care for this homunculus, but she did like the name. Charity, it was ironic. She took so much from these people, their freedom, their wealth, their lives.

"You are the beginning of the others, Charity. The Opposers."

"The Opposers? How many drinks have you had today, boy?" Avven scoffed. Only Avven would have the guts to make fun of a creature that can easily regenerate its body, and cannot die.

"Some sort of Virtue and Sin war?" She asked. She knew of the Seven Heavenly Virtues and the Seven Deadly Sins. That didn't stop her from rolling her eyes at the thought though.

"We'll see. Well, toodles." He wiggled his fingers before strolling out the doors.

She blinked and the smile disappeared from her face. "I wasn't done questioning you." She called after him.

"I know."

Avven took a step forward. "Do you wish for me to stop him, milady?"

She slowly shook her head. "No. It'd be impossible." She paused. "And you may call me Charity, Avven."

"Of course." He agreed immediately.

"I want more drink." She tossed down her empty cup and one man raced forward and caught it. "And someone refresh my memory."

"What would you like to know, your grace?" Toby asked eagerly.

"Which sin does Charity oppose?" The newly named woman asked curiously.

"Greed."


	3. A Craving For Flesh

_..._

_A new rebel leader was rising to power. She wanted him dead. No one opposed her rule. While he still breathed her air, a permanent scowl would remain on her face. She had heard through the "grapevine" (in other words, a tortured rebel), that he was preparing an attack on her castle to murder her and all who followed her. She heard that the foolish man was calling her "his lady demon", and spoke of slaying her to save his country. Charity wanted a name to curse and it was only after threatening to maim a young child that a woman broke. Her first smile in the long winter months came that day. She had her name._

_He was called Nathanial._

_..._

It had been a leisurely day and she lay sprawled out across a beautifully decorated lectus, a servant keeping her wine glass full. She'd spent the morning reading a thick book on alchemy, or more specifically, on human transmutation.

"Milady, the master thief Richardson sends a gift." A white-haired soldier called, his voice alluring and musical. It sent a thrilling shiver down her spine.

She glanced up from her book to look at the man with interest. "Send it in." Charity ordered. "And come here."

He nodded to the guards at the door before climbing the stone steps to her sanctuary. She crooked her finger at him and he ducked inside the white veil, pausing in the entrance. "Milady?"

Charity tossed the book carelessly to the floor and sat up, patting the soft velvet couch beside her. "What's your name?" She asked sweetly, a sudden flash of desire appearing in her eyes.

She held out her hand before he could sit and he froze, standing motionlessly before her. Tipping her head back, her lips parted as she examined him. She gained her feet and slowly began to circle him like a vulture waiting for its prey to die, patiently, with a hunger burning in her eyes. Dragging a fingertip along one thick bicep, she stopped at his side and repeated her question in a low, breathy voice.

"Trey, milady." His green-eyed gaze was sharp, unwavering. She liked that.

"Trey." Charity smiled and he nodded seriously. "My beautiful boy, how old are you?"

"You flatter me, milady." Trey gifted her with a heart-stopping grin. "I'll be twenty-four this summer, my queen."

Charity tipped her head to one side, pondering. "That's quite young..." She thought aloud.

He looked affronted. "You yourself are only twelve." Trey immediately bowed his head. "I apologize, milady. I spoke out of turn."

"You did." She agreed. "But you make a good point." The sly look was back on her face. "When did you come to us, Trey?"

"I've been serving you for eight months now, milady." He seemed to be having a hard time thinking straight.

She stepped around, back in front of him, her hands pressed against his chest, running over his firm muscles, enjoying the heat and strength that radiated from him. "And what family do you have?"

Trey captured her hands in his own, a bold move. She liked that too. "Milady, my thoughts escape me when you do that."

"I asked you a question."

He blinked, a forlorn expression appearing on his face. "My parents and sister were killed in the rebel's rampage last spring. They slaughtered our animals and burned our farm. My father had been a strong supporter of yours. My family was killed as an example. I was here, delivering our gift of wool when it happened."

"Poor thing." She cooed sympathetically. Freeing one hand from his grasp, she gently stroked the side of his face. "Poor darling."

"If I may interrupt." Avven's voice cut through the haze, a dangerous edge to it. "The gift."

She peeked around Trey massive shoulders and let out an audible gasp. She gathered up her skirts and hurried down the stairs, eyes wide. Charity approached the mirror, it's beautiful frame easily recognizable. The woman staring back at her wore a stunning dress of thin, sheer material, layered and magnificently draped across her body. The deep crimson colour flattered her pale complexion. Her hair was piled on top of her head, with several dark ringlets loose. She truly looked like a Queen.

"Who brings this to me?" She demanded sharply, ignoring the stare-down Avven had just won against Trey.

A handsome man suddenly stepped out from behind the mirror, a wide grin on his face. Had she stopped to study him, she would've realized that his smile didn't quite reach his Sapphire eyes. She glanced at him.

"You!" Charity pointed a finger accusingly. "Who are you? How did you acquire this?"

"Do you not recognize me, Penny?" He cried, arms thrown wide. "I am your lover, do you not remember the nights we shared together?"

She curled back her lip, retreating as he approached. "I repeat: how did you acquire this looking glass?"

"Don't you remember me, darling?" He seemed less than interested to discuss the gift. "You never gave me an answer to my proposal." Pouting his full lips, he still held out his arms to her. "Have you no kiss for our long awaited reunion?"

Charity halted, stiffening. "Your Penny is dead. Now I give you two choices: answer my questions, or die."

"After my kiss I will do anything in my power to please you, my love." He proclaimed loudly, still advancing on her. He stopped when his toes touched hers. A taller woman than most, Charity still had to tilt her head back to hold his gaze.

"You are deserving of no affection from me." She snapped, hands on her hips. "I grow weary of having to repeat myself."

He slid a hand along the side of her neck, drawing it up to cup her face. Leaning in beside her ear, he whispered: "I grow weary of your rule, Penny." His voice had a chilling bite to it. "I am here to take what's mine. The throne."

Her hands came up, palms extended, as one would push another away. His free hand easily caught both of her wrists and she made only a half-hearted attempt to free them. Charity knew she could overpower her captor, but she waited, curious.

"Who are you?" She narrowed her eyes.

He pressed his forehead to hers and a true, triumphant smile curved his lips. "My name is Nathanial." He introduced himself in a low, arrogant growl.

It took a moment for his words to sink in. When they did, she let out a snarl of her own. "Nathanial." She ripped her hands from his grasp but that was as far as she got before a blade was shoved between her ribs. Her mouth fell open and she looked down, she wasn't sure where her garment ended and her blood began. Gaze lifting, her eyes met his again before she went limp.

He gently lowered her to the steps, hushing her instinctive gasps and gurgles. Still with his back to her men, he pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at the blood that dribbled from her mouth. Dizzy and frustrated, her hand slowly crept to her chest and with a hard yank, she ripped the dagger from her body.

Nathanial smiled, the back of his hand stroking her cheek. "It'll all be over soon, Penny." He said soothingly, his fingertips delicately pushing her eyelids closed. "All over soon."

Her hand snapped out and gripped his throat, the pain having receded. A wicked grin spread across her face and the fog that had temporarily clouded her mind disappeared.

"How..." He choked as the colour was drained from his face.

With her other hand, she hooked her fingers into her ruined dress and pulled the hole, ripping it further. Her pale skin peeked out, stained but unscratched.

"You weren't betting on that, were you, _Nathanial_?" She sneered his name. "I told you, Penny is dead and has been for a very long time."

Charity loosened her hold but didn't remove her hand from his skin. A soft fuchsia light spread from her fingertips and his muscles began to twitch as his very life began to be drained from him. Eyes wide with fear and mouth agape in shock, he was frozen, all movement impossible.

Rising, her hand slid up from his face to caress his strong jaw before resting on his forehead. He was forced to remain kneeling at her feet.

"Milady!" Chin snapping up, she cocked her head in question, letting her hand drop to her side. Nathanial slumped into a heap and she stepped over him, staring at the large oak doors, which were now barred. While she'd been playing with her new friend, her soldiers had been facing some problems of their own.

Avven and the other guards had pulled their weapons, ready to protect their mistress from a new threat, but they had been surrounded by a strange gold glow. At first, Charity thought her eyes were playing tricks on her but it quickly grew more opaque and her men stared at it in confusion. They didn't know what it was, or what it for.

One of the soldiers, Elijah, a thin, quiet man of thirty, seemed to understand. For the first time that Charity had ever seen, he opened his mouth. "Alchemy!" He cried, dropping to his knees and producing a piece of chalk from his sleeve.

As far as she could tell, he was drawing an intricate circle on that floor. A transmutation circle, she believed it was called.

Pressing his hands to it, a explosion of yellow light and a loud BOOM echoed in her ears, throwing her to the floor. She gazed through the thick smoke and saw several figures helping her captive up and leading him away, disappearing through a servant's door.

Nearly to her feet, Charity was ready to chase Nathanial down and finish what she'd started when she was stopped. Avven stood, hand around her wrist, tugging her back.

"Leave him." He coughed, shaking his head. "I have to get you out of here, milady. We need to go."

She stared at the deep cut high on his forehead and recognized the urgency in his eyes. Charity nodded her silent agreement. Sending one last, longing look over her shoulder, she allowed herself to be ushered into hidden passageway.

...

_Author's Note: SHOOT ME PLEASE. Hot damn, this took forever (as in a few days) to write, and I'm still not happy with it. The first two chapters were written back in July and now I'm all frustrated and- and- BLARGH. Anyways, I know it's pretty awful. Constructive criticism always helps but this may just be beyond saving. Either way, if for some reason you like it, or if you agree with me and don't, tell me about it. _


	4. How Do You Humans Heal?

_..._

_Once she had fallen, it was difficult to rise again. The citizens would be thrilled to have a new self-appointed monarch. He would treat the people kindly, but rule with an iron fist. She had already heard stories of his silver tongue and was amazed by his ability to persuade, and convince. She dealt with her problems with blood and murder, and he needed not to give more than a few brief words. He was an impressive force to be reckoned with, yes, but he was just a man. And all men could be slaughtered._

_..._

"Forced to hide like a common thief!" She raged, stalking around the dismal campsite. "And Nathanial," she spat his name, like it was a bitter poison. "How dare he take my kingdom?" Charity roared and birds in the surrounding trees took flight.

"Milady, not to ruin your tantrum, but we need to stay secret." Avven said lazily, his strong arms folded behind his head, a twinkle in his dark eyes. He was her most loyal follower and had been at her side through everything, the good, the bad, and now, the worse. Avven was her favourite, and the only human she'd ever allow to speak so disrespectfully to her.

She sent him a white-hot glare, but her anger had lost its edge. "How many of us are there left?" Charity grumbled, flopping down on a fallen log.

He leaned forward, hands fisted in his lap, his amusement gone. "Far too many were lost in the attack. They weren't trained properly and I apologize. I should've overseen it, instead of entrusting the task with that traitor, Gilroy."

"What's done is done and only the weak regret decisions made. If I blamed you, you'd be dead." She shrugged, closing her eyes. That was the closest she'd get to telling him that it wasn't his fault. "You'll get your chance to lay your hands on Gilroy yet. He won't escape alive."

An evil smile spread across Avven's scarred face. "Then he's mine?"

She nodded and his grin widened. "I get Nathanial." Charity said sweetly, opening one eye to peek at Avven before smiling herself. "And you may do as you wish to the traitor. Now, my earlier question. Who's left?"

"Not many. Besides you and I, Tobias, Warren, Trey, Roland, and Elijah are the only survivors. That's not even a quarter of what we had stationed at the castle, and as soon as the others heard wind of our defeat," he spat into the dirt. "The cowards switched sides." He ran a hand through his ebony hair and scowled. "If I-"

"They had alchemists." She snapped. "Eli couldn't fend all of them off himself. We had muscle, but we were up against those bastard magicians." Charity hated talking about their loss. "We just need to change tactics and move on. Calm yourself, we will get our revenge."

"What do you suggest?" His asked absentmindedly, gaze rising above her head. "Excuse me, milady. Tobias! What news do you bring?"

She stood when he did, turning to face the young man, face streaked with dirt, who approached. He staggered through the clearing, stumbling on loose rocks and over roots, clearly suffering from exhaustion.

"Milady." He forced himself to bow, grimacing in pain as he did so. "Avven, the perimeter has been secured but we've detected movement on the Northern front. Nathanial must know we're here."

Charity let out a long haggard sigh. She didn't worry for her own safety, and she normally considered her men disposable, but she would reward her soldiers loyalty with her protection. And besides, she didn't want to start all over now.

Avven exchanged a look with her. "How far off?"

"A mile or so." Toby replied, cradling his arm. Blood soaked his tunic from a gash under his collarbone. His breathing was ragged and his eyes could barely stay open.

"Call them in." She ordered Avven. Charity's eye twitched as she allowed herself to say: "Let me assist you. We need to get you to a healer."

Stunned, Toby couldn't do much more than stare at her with a strange look on his face as she helped him to the fallen log. "M-milady?" He choked on his own words.

She didn't respond to his confusion, instead sitting beside him. Adjusting her skirts, she scooted closer and he instinctively flinched as she reached out to him. She paused and sent him a questioning look.

"I apologize for my cowardice." He mumbled. "I've never seen milady touch another without killing them." Toby steadied himself.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to kill you, Tobias." She growled. "Now, can you remove your tunic?"

He paled and she barely restrained herself from sighing. "Never you mind." And with one fluid movement, she had torn the garment from his chest.

Staring blankly at the wound she bit her lip. "Now how do you dratted humans heal?" She had no experience in the field and Toby looked like he was about to pass out.

Toby stared at her uncertainly, and she stared at his wound in the same way. She prodded at it and he winced, but she took no notice, murmuring under her breath while she tried to figure out how to fix the problem.

"He's going to bleed out if we don't do something." Avven sounded amused.

Charity glanced up as her men approached. "I've got this under control." She saw Toby mouthing "help me" over her head and she frowned. "Fine, Avven. If you're so great, then you do it."

He flashed her an arrogant grin, his white teeth sticking out like a sore thumb against his dirt covered face. Avven leaned over her, snapped a few orders at the other boys, gathered up his supplies and had Toby wrapped in a matter of minutes.

He knelt in front of the boy and Charity sat close on Toby's left. She watched him as he worked, his large hands remarkably gentle as he bandaged the injury. She didn't realize he had skill in medicine. Her frown deepened, her competitive nature didn't care much for someone being better at something than her. She considered biting him, he was certainly close enough, but decided against it, it would probably scare Toby to death.

"Lie down for a moment." Avven gestured to a soft patch of grass nearby as he stood. "We'll have to move soon and you'll need your strength."

Tobias inclined his head to Charity as Avven helped him to his feet. "Thank you, Avven."

Avven nodded his acknowledgement and motioned the others forward. They stood in a half circle around Charity. "You mentioned changing tactics." He said, wiping the blood from his hands onto his pants. "What did you have in mind?"


End file.
